Very distinguished judge Frederick Leister is instructing the jury in a murder case built purely on circumstantial evidence: an estranged wife is having an affair and intends to marry her lover as soon as she gets a divorce. The husband has turned up with incriminating letters, and now is dead. Clearly, Leister all but commands the jury, she is guilty.
We then switch to his son, Doctor Patrick Holt, who is carrying on, in a perfectly proper way, a love affair with Rona Anderson, who is suing estranged husband, smarmy John Arnatt for divorce. Arnatt turns up, steals money from her handbag, finds some letters and threatens her with exposure. Well, it's absolutely clear what's going to happen when she sends Holt to meet Arnatt. Arnatt demands a lot of money, talks about the Medical Board striking him off, and so forth. Holt knocks him down -- showing great discretion; I would have tossed him through a window. Arnatt is found dead, and the police arrest Holt, preparatory to charging him in an obvious murder. Inspector Ballard Berkeley even comments on the parallels between the two cases, and how Holt is not long for the world. Whereupon Miss Anderson goes sleuthing.
It's unusual to see a British film in which the police are so lazy and wrong, when it takes Miss Anderson only ten minutes of screen time to crack the case. It's certainly not the first movie to make the point that circumstantial evidence is bad evidence -- although actually, it's a lot more reliable than eye witnesses. The performances are good, and the denouement is almost comical. There are some nice small roles for Ben Williams and Ian Fleming. But the entire movie is so obvious in the first ten minutes that the ease with which the actual murderer is identified is a bit insulting.
